Alas, alas, they say.

Zacuan, instead of being a proper name, may mean a rich yellow leather from the bird called _zacuantototl_.]

As the fumes of the liquor still further disordered his reason, he called his attendants and bade them hasten to his sister Quetzalpetlatl, who dwelt on the Mountain Nonoalco, and bring her, that she too might taste the divine liquor. The attendants hurried off and said to his sister:--

"n.o.ble lady, we have come for you. The high priest Quetzalcoatl awaits you. It is his wish that you come and live with him."

She instantly obeyed and went with them. On her arrival Quetzalcoatl seated her beside him and gave her to drink of the magical pulque.

Immediately she felt its influence, and Quetzalcoatl began to sing, in drunken fashion--

"Sister mine, beloved mine, Quetzal--petlatl--tzin, Come with me, drink with me, 'Tis no sin, sin, sin."

Soon they were so drunken that all reason was forgotten; they said no prayers, they went not to the bath, and they sank asleep on the floor.[1]

[Footnote 1: It is not clear, at least in the translations, whether the myth intimates an incestuous relation between Quetzalcoatl and his sister.

In the song he calls her "Nohueltiuh," which means, strictly, "My elder sister;" but Mendoza translates it "Querida esposa mia." _Quetzalpetlatl_ means "the Beautiful Carpet," _petlatl_ being the rug or mat used on floors, etc. This would be a most appropriate figure of speech to describe a rich tropical landscape, "carpeted with flowers," as we say; and as the earth is, in primitive cosmogony, older than the sun, I suspect that this story of Quetzalcoatl and his sister refers to the sun sinking from heaven, seemingly, into the earth. "Los Nahoas," remarks Chavero, "figuraban la tierra en forma de un cuadrilatero dividido en pequenos quatros, lo que semijaba una estera, _petlatl_" (_a.n.a.les del Museo Nacional_, Tom. ii, p. 248).]

Sad, indeed, was Quetzalcoatl the next morning.

"I have sinned," he said; "the stain on my name can never be erased. I am not fit to rule this people. Let them build for me a habitation deep under ground; let them bury my bright treasures in the earth; let them throw the gleaming gold and shining stones into the holy fountain where I take my daily bath."

All this was done, and Quetzalcoatl spent four days in his underground tomb. When he came forth he wept and told his followers that the time had come for him to depart for Tlapallan, the Red Land, Tlillan, the Dark Land, and Tlatlallan, the Fire Land, all names of one locality.

He journeyed eastward until he came to a place where the sky, and land, and water meet together.[1] There his attendants built a funeral pile, and he threw himself into the flames. As his body burned his heart rose to heaven, and after four days became the planet Venus.[2]

[Footnote 1: Designated in the Aztec original by the name _Teoapan Ilhuicaatenco_, from _teotl_, divine, _atl_, water, _pan_, in or near, _ilhuicac_, heaven, _atenco_, the waterside: "Near the divine water, where the sky meets the strand."]

[Footnote 2: The whole of this account is from the _a.n.a.les de Cuauht.i.tlan_, pp. 16-22.]

That there is a profound moral significance in this fiction all will see; but I am of opinion that it is accidental and advent.i.tious. The means that Tezcatlipoca employs to remove Quetzalcoatl refer to the two events that mark the decline of day. The sun is reflected by a long lane of beams in the surface waters of lake or sea; it loses the strength of its rays and fails in vigor; while the evening mists, the dampness of approaching dewfall, and the gathering clouds obscure its power and foretell the extinction which will soon engulf the bright luminary. As Quetzalcoatl cast his shining gold and precious stones into the water where he took his nightly bath, or buried them in underground hiding places, so the sun conceals his glories under the waters, or in the distant hills, into which he seems to sink. As he disappears at certain seasons, the Star of Evening shines brightly forth amid the lingering and fading rays, rising, as it were, from the dying fires of the sunset.

To this it may be objected that the legend makes Quetzalcoatl journey toward the East, and not toward the sunset. The explanation of this apparent contradiction is easy. The Aztec sages had at some time propounded to themselves the question of how the sun, which seems to set in the West, can rise the next morning in the East? Mungo Parke tells us that when he asked the desert Arabs this conundrum, they replied that the inquiry was frivolous and childish, as being wholly beyond the capacities of the human mind. The Aztecs did not think so, and had framed a definite theory which overcame the difficulty. It was that, in fact, the sun only advances to the zenith, and then returns to the East, from whence it started. What we seem to see as the sun between the zenith and the western horizon is, in reality, not the orb itself, but only its _brightness_, one of its accidents, not its substance, to use the terms of metaphysics.

Hence to the Aztec astronomer and sage, the house of the sun is always toward the East.[1]

[Footnote 1: Ramirez de Fuen-leal, _Historia_, cap. xx, p. 102.]

We need not have recourse even to this explanation. The sun, indeed, disappears in the West; but his journey must necessarily be to the East, for it is from that point that he always comes forth each morning. The Light-G.o.d must necessarily daily return to the place whence he started.

The symbols of the mirror and the mystic drink are perfectly familiar in Aryan sun-myths. The best known of the stories referring to the former is the transparent tale of Narcissus forced by Nemesis to fall in love with his own image reflected in the waters, and to pine away through unsatisfied longing; or, as Pausanias tells the story, having lost his twin sister (the morning twilight), he wasted his life in noting the likeness of his own features to those of his beloved who had pa.s.sed away.

"The sun, as he looks down upon his own face reflected in a lake or sea, sinks or dies at last, still gazing on it."[1]

[Footnote 1: Sir George A. c.o.x, _The Science of Mythology and Folk Lore_, p. 96.]

Some later writers say that the drink which Quetzalcoatl quaffed was to confer immortality. This is not stated in the earliest versions of the myth. The beverage is health-giving and intoxicating, and excites the desire to seek Tlapallan, but not more. It does not, as the Soma of the Vedas, endow with unending life.

Nevertheless, there is another myth which countenances this view and explains it. It was told in the province of Mezt.i.tlan, a mountainous country to the northwest of the province of Vera Cruz. Its inhabitants spoke the Nahuatl tongue, but were never subject to the Montezumas. Their chief G.o.d was Tezcatlipoca, and it was said of him that on one occasion he slew Ometochtli (Two Rabbits), the G.o.d of wine, at the latter's own request, he believing that he thus would be rendered immortal, and that all others who drank of the beverage he presided over would die. His death, they added, was indeed like the stupor of a drunkard, who, after his lethargy has pa.s.sed, rises healthy and well. In this sense of renewing life after death, he presided over the native calendar, the count of years beginning with Tochtli, the Rabbit.[1] Thus we see that this is a myth of the returning seasons, and of nature waking to life again after the cold months ushered in by the chill rains of the late autumn. The principle of fertility is alone perennial, while each individual must perish and die.

The G.o.d of Wine in Mexico, as in Greece, is one with the mysterious force of reproduction.

[Footnote 1: Gabriel de Chaves, _Relacion de la Provincia de Mezt.i.tlan_, 1556, in the _Colecion de Doc.u.mentos Ineditos del Archivo de Indias_, Tom.

iv, p. 536.]

No writer has preserved such numerous traditions about the tricks of Tezcatlipoca in Tollan, as Father Sahagun. They are, no doubt, almost verbally reported as he was told them, and as he wrote his history first in the Aztec tongue, they preserve all the quaintness of the original tales. Some of them appear to be idle amplifications of story tellers, while others are transparent myths. I shall translate a few of them quite literally, beginning with that of the mystic beverage.

The time came for the luck of Quetzalcoatl and the Toltecs to end; for there appeared against them three sorcerers, named Vitzilopochtli, t.i.tlacauan and Tlacauepan,[1] who practiced many villanies in the city of Tullan. t.i.tlacauan began them, a.s.suming the disguise of an old man of small stature and white hairs. With this figure he approached the palace of Quetzalcoatl and said to the servants:--

[Footnote 1: t.i.tlacauan was the common name of Tezcatlipoca. The three sorcerers were really Quetzalcoatl's three brothers, representing the three other cardinal points.]

"I wish to see the King and speak to him."

"Away with you, old man;" said the servants. "You cannot see him. He is sick. You would only annoy him."

"I must see him," answered the old man.

The servants said, "Wait," and going in, they told Quetzalcoatl that an old man wished to see him, adding, "Sire, we put him out in vain; he refuses to leave, and says that he absolutely must see you." Quetzalcoatl answered:--

"Let him in. I have been waiting his coming for a long time."

They admitted the old man and he entered the apartment of Quetzalcoatl, and said to him:--

"My lord and son, how are you? I have with me a medicine for you to drink."

"You are welcome, old man," replied Quetzalcoatl. "I have been looking for your arrival for many days."

"Tell me how you are," asked the old man. "How is your body and your health?"

"I am very ill," answered Quetzalcoatl. "My whole body pains me, and I cannot move my hands or feet."

Then the old man said:--

"Sire, look at this medicine which I bring you. It is good and healthful, and intoxicates him who drinks it. If you will drink it, it will intoxicate you, it will heal you, it will soothe your heart, it will prepare you for the labors and fatigues of death, or of your departure."

"Whither, oh ancient man," asked Quetzalcoatl, "Whither must I go?"

The old man answered:--

"You must without fail go to Tullan Tlapallan, where there is another old man awaiting you; you and he will talk together, and at your return you will be transformed into a youth, and you will regain the vigor of your boyhood."

When Quetzalcoatl heard these words, his heart was shaken with strong emotion, and the old man added:--

"My lord, drink this medicine."

"Oh ancient man," answered the king, "I do not want to drink it."

"Drink it, my lord," insisted the old man, "for if you do not drink it now, later you will long for it; at least, lift it to your mouth and taste a single drop."

Quetzalcoatl took the drop and tasted it, and then quaffed the liquor, exclaiming:--

"What is this? It seems something very healthful and well-flavored. I am no longer sick. It has cured me. I am well."